Catching Captain Jack
by That Dragon Kid
Summary: Death's always been busy, but there's one man Death knows better than everyone else. Through Jack, Death comes across Torchwood, a mysterious organisation which soon becomes an obsession. Spoilers for all series, and the Dead Line radio play.
1. A Prelude to the Madness

**I do not own Torchwood, or its characters, though I wish I did! =D **

**Contains spoilers for all series and the radioplay 'The Dead Line'. **

**The story is told from Death's point of view, so I don't know how this will work out, though if it does not work, then I can change it so Death is simply a character. Jack is a main character here, too. **

**Death is telling the story after the events of Children of Earth, though it takes you through all the series. **

**The song which has inspired me whilst writing this is 'End' by Secondhand Serenade, and so has the poem 'And Death Shall Have No Dominion' by Dylan Thomas. The songs 'Maybe' and 'Awake', also by Secondhand Serenade, have played significance in keeping my mood right for writing the deeper scenes :) **

**I'd love to know what everyone thinks, so please read, and if you like, reviews are lovely =D**

**~ Dragon**

**Catching Captain Jack **

_**A Prelude to the Madness**_

In his lifetime, Captain Jack Harkness died a total of one thousand, five hundred deaths, over a time span of approximately one thousand, one hundred and fifty-three years.

I crossed paths with him more times than I would have liked, more than I would have thought possible – after all, I usually only meet a person or creature once or twice.

They are only brief encounters, I must admit – the crossover period before the cascading darkness of death, lasting only a few minutes, is where I meet most of these people or creatures. I have met so many lives, stolen so many loves. I have destroyed whole cities, wiped out entire nations, all with my bare hands. Nothing can escape me.

Except Jack Harkness.

Whenever he dies, he comes to me, and I take his hand, ready to step across the barrier between life and death, only for him to be halted at the barrier. The barrier is an invisible force, which strips one of all life qualities, sending the empty soul into cold darkness. Nothing can evade it; except for Captain Jack.

He is instead dragged back to his body, over the broken glass of the barrier, sometimes willingly, others times kicking, screaming, begging to just die.

_The barrier; an invisible force, which seems to be made of glass, and is broken when one is brought back to life. One is dragged over the shattered pieces, resulting in great pain. It strips you of life, readying you for the darkness. _

But I cannot stop it. Many times I have tried to step in, to halt his returning to life, but to no avail. I have no authority over whether he returns or not, and it is not up to me to decide. I have been trying to catch Jack Harkness for so long, it almost kills me every time he is ripped from my grasp.

He does not yet know of the cold, harsh, emptiness awaiting him on the other side of the barrier, but I once took a pact, on the very first time he returned to life. I swore that one day, even if it took a thousand years, I would catch Jack Harkness. No matter how long it took, how it happened, I was going to get him. I did not know that it would not be so easy.

I thought that his first return to life was simply a one-off, that the next time he would not be so lucky, but I was wrong.

I am never wrong.

Perhaps I am thought of as a cold-hearted, bloodthirsty killer. This is not true. I am just enraged that Harkness somehow manages to flee from me every time I try to catch him.

However, our timeless chase lead me to a whole new world, of adventure and dangers. It showed me the wonders of the human race, and of all the galaxies beyond this world.

This is the story of how I found Torchwood; a story of love and hatred, of time-travel and stopwatches, of forgiveness and loss, and of life and death.

This is the story of how Death caught Captain Jack Harkness.

**Whee! xD**

**More coming very soon, and hopefully this will turn into a good story!**

**~ Dragon **


	2. Roses are Red

**Note; I do not own Torchwood, nor do I own its characters. If I did, Ianto and Jack would have their own TV show. xD **

**So here is chapter 1 =)**

**I am probably thinking a prologue, epilogue, and perhaps twenty five to thirty chapters in between, depending on how many I think I'll need :) **

**Thanks to all who are reading, and remember, reviews are loved ^.^**

**PS. Bad Wolf is referring to the Doctor Who episode in which Jack first dies, but this is not a crossover fic. The 'light' is the Heart of the TARDIS, which Rose used to revive Jack, but accidentally brought him back forever. **

**~ Dragon**

_**Roses are Red**_

Before I begin the tale of Torchwood and Captain Jack, I just need to get something out in the open.

I am not an enemy. Some see me as a formidable foe, one to be hated, to be loathed, to be feared.

Truly, I am none of the above. I simply am, and sometimes I wish that I was not here, that all humans and creatures could live forever in harmony, spending eternity with their true loves and families. Unfortunately, I can not allow anybody such luxuries, and one day, even if it is far into the future, each and every human in existence will end up in the silent solitude that is death.

Death is like a long game, only you have just one life. When game over flashes on the screen, you do not get another chance. There is no 'restart' switch. Each and every stab of the knife is real; all bloodshed is true, and not just gory graphics. When a bullet is shot, it doesn't just start the level again. It churns your muscles together, spilling blood across the floor, contorts your mind. The pain is real. Your worst fear is not the power going out, so you must start again, but of the game ending too soon.

I could find many more metaphors for what death is, but I do not have the time.

Instead, I tell the story of Torchwood and I to as many as I can. Perhaps one day I shall write it down, in a book, but for now, I will content myself with telling the deceased.

I am guessing that whoever reads this tale will have the idea that I wear a bleak, black cloak, have skeletal features and carry a scythe. I can assure each and every person that this is not me; is not who I really am. In truth, I have no true appearance; it changes with every person. Most of the time, I appear as a woman. Why? Because women are said to be more compassionate, but over the years, I have found this to be nonsense.

I do occasionally wear a black cloak, but usually, I opt for red. It is a colour of revolution, of fire, of sunsets and sunrise. It is the colour of blood-spill, of war and of anger. It is the colour of sin, of passion, of guilt, of courage and sacrifice. It is who I am.

_**RED **_

_Blood, War, Anger, Sin, Passion, Guilt, Courage, Sacrifice, Roses, Death, Jack Harkness _

A rose is red, and the matters of life and death are much like the rose. The petals are the fragile pieces of life, so easily torn apart. The thorns contain the poisons of death, and with one touch can draw you away. I am the red rose of this world; I am the thorns and the poison concealed.

Jack Harkness is red.

I am afraid I am allowing myself to get sidetracked from the natures of these chronicles. I wish I could name them fables, but these tales are real. Torchwood was real.

It was Bad Wolf that first brought me to Jack Harkness.

-x-x-x-

It was a magical night, to say the least. The galaxy was beautiful, as it always was when I stepped across it, my cloak collecting stars in its trail like a mop collects water. Planets orbited slowly around me, dancing a timeless careen around the sun.

Death hung in the air around me, and spirit's hands clutched at the frayed contours of my cloak, clasping desperately to me, begging to be put back in their bodies. Their voices are not always easy to ignore, and as I travelled through the ship, I found it increasingly difficult to keep a cool and level head.

My memories are mixed now, though I was sure that Jack had evaded me before as a con man, and previously as a time agent, though I do not recall if Jack had his immortality during these two phases of his life. I know that he had it during Torchwood. My mind is mixed, but I do not forget.

The putrid, yet sickly sweet, smell of the dying filled my nostrils, and I raised a hand to cover my nose. The acrid stench filled my mouth, and I could taste fear in the musky air. My footsteps seemed eerily loud in the empty corridors, and yet, nobody could hear them except the souls and I.

I turned one corner to find three monstrosities standing over a handsome man. They had no mercy, and I remember seeing them before, in a war which kept me busy for decades. It was a war which destroyed an entire species, apart from one or two, and an event in time I'd rather dismiss from my mind altogether, but of course, I cannot.

Daleks.

One spoke with a robotic, croaking voice, the air turning several degrees cooler as it shocked the life, literally, out of the man named Jack Harkness. I watched his racing heart stop suddenly, heard his breath wither away and die. For one moment, I found myself hesitating, but I shook the feelings from my shoulders. I can not make exceptions for one man to live and for so many others to die, and so I shouldered my emotions, and drew my hands deep into his body, drawing out the cool fingers of his soul.

I carried him carefully through the fray of the ship, taking him to the barrier which would send him on his death journey.

It was quiet, with a mist of melancholy drifting about our heads. I felt blue.

_**BLUE**_

_Anguish, Rain, Storms, Sky, Ocean, Ice, Dead flesh, Serenity, Calm, Death_

At the barrier, I have a short moment in which to talk to the departing soul; perhaps those moments were meant for reassurance, or for final goodbyes. The reality was that most said nothing. They just stared at me. I bring the souls in groups of hundreds, sometimes thousands, but only one tends to step forward in bravery and speak to me.

Captain Jack stared at me for a moment as I set him before the barrier. The barrier is invisible, but in the minutes before death takes you, you see it as a doorway to a white light. Not blinding, but just there. There is a white light that you go towards in death. But then there is nothing.

"Where am I?" Jack frowned at me, noting that I was holding his hand. I smiled with one side of my mouth.

"This is the barrier," I replied coolly, resting one hand on the doorway. I could feel the thin glass pulsing beneath my palms. I removed my cloak for one moment, shaking it, and souls fell from it into the barrier, disappearing into the darkness which was visible as each one died for eternity.

"The barrier of what?" Jack's brow was furrowed as I replaced my cloak, a musty yet sweet aroma drifting off it. There was an underlay of rottenness about it, however; the scent of death.

"Of life and death. Here is the very door which separates us from living and dying. The threads which hold it together are weak, and soon, it will disintegrate, and you will be pulled into its suffocating embrace, Jack Harkness," I deadpanned, raising my chin slightly. I am not the tallest of creatures; threatening height or muscular builds have never appealed to me. I prefer to be small and slight, as this allows me easier passage between worlds. Standing next to the Captain, who seemed to air an authority which made even I want to stand up straighter around him.

"Wait a minute there, O red cloaked one," Jack said, his eyebrows raised comically, "are you…are you saying that I'm dead?"

I nodded. "I am afraid so. I am so sorry, Captain. I really am." And I was. I do not like my job at all, but if I do not it, I am punished most severely. The worst possible tortures around are inflicted upon me, and I am selfish enough to continue with my job, rather than face up to my enemies and help save those who deserve to live.

"Yeah, right," Jack scoffed, looking directly into my eyes with those deep, deep blue orbs of his.

"I really am," I repeated monotonously, tightening my grip on his hand. I could feel the barrier wavering. It was almost time.

Just as the barrier blew apart, Jack Harkness' hand was wrenched from my own in a flash of iridescent white light, and I raised an arm to shield my eyes. The air was tearing around me, the fabrics of death being destroyed by something far superior even to I.

When I next looked, Jack Harkness had disappeared. Staggering like a drunkard, the last sounds I heard were that of the breath being forced back into a man.

-x-x-x-

That was the first time Captain Jack Harkness cheated Death. Cheated me.

I felt angered, yet amazed at how he managed such deceit. It was different to the times of the gloves – which I will explain later. This return to life was good and pure, even if he did have to be dragged backwards through death itself.

Though he lived seemingly forever, something told me then, however, that I would be meeting Jack Harkness again; and I was right.

The chase had begun.

**Yay xD**

**Death will be making references to colours throughout – Death believes each person has a colour, and that she and Jack are similar because they are both 'red'. **

**The parts where it says 'RED' and 'BLUE' are words associated with those two colours.**

**Thanks for everyone who has review so far :)**

**More coming very soon! ^^ **

**~ Dragon**


	3. Torchwood

**Note; I do not own Torchwood, nor do I own its characters. If I did, Ianto would never have suffered the fate he did. I love him 3 **

**So here is chapter 2! ^^ **

**I am currently listening to the beautiful track named The Ballad of Ianto Jones from the Children of Earth soundtrack, and it is possibly one of the most beautiful pieces I have ever heard. Go listen :) In case you do not want to, it is the music played when Jack and Ianto are in the 456's room. **

**Thanks to all who are reading and reviewing – it means so much! =D **

**~ Dragon**

_**Torchwood **_

Everything and everyone has a kind of soundtrack to their life; the music I hear when I take them away. Some are haunting, others are happy. Some have the power to anger me, whilst many have the power to tug on my heart. Only two have ever made me cry, though I will not mention this now.

They also have colours. Each and every human and animal alike has a colour; some have a mix. Each has their own properties, and whenever I hear the final ballad of humans, I see their true colours.

What is my colour?

Truth is, I am no colour, yet I am all. I am red. I am blue, green, yellow and orange. I am purple and pink, black and white. I am an endless spectrum, a rainbow which stretches for all of eternity. I am the darkest of nights, and the brightest of days. I am the greatest of angels, and the most evil of demons. I am Death.

Jack Harkness has no ballad. He has a colour, though. Whenever I saw him, I felt the presence of many colours; red, mostly, with hints of blue and yellow. Sometimes there was pink. I will tell of these moments later in the tale. For now, let us wander to the time of 1869, or thereabouts, where I first came across Torchwood.

The place that changed my being. That changed Jack's being.

-x-x-x-

It had not been long since Jack's 'Doctor' had abandoned him, seemingly for the next century or so.

Ah, the Doctor.

He has managed to cheat me also, though he never truly reaches the barrier. His entire body changes, drawing new life into him, and he becomes someone entirely new, only with the same soul. I have never grown tired of him, because he is so fascinating in how he avoids me. I have never tried to catch him, because I know that I cannot. He is untouchable.

I have been waiting for nine hundred years to find the Doctor, and still he runs. I do not find him a coward, though; I have the up-most respect for him and his actions. He is a true hero.

Though I have watched the Doctor for nine hundred years, I thought that I would be watching Captain Jack for a lot longer.

The second time I crossed paths with the Captain, he lay sprawled in a public house, a splintered bottle protruding from his front. I drew my fingers through his body, luring his soul from the depths of his heart, and pulled him free. The world fell around us, and went dark. The barrier flashed yellow. I saw red.

_**YELLOW**_

_Sunshine, Warmth, Happiness, Joy, Warnings, Cowardice, Deceit, Danger, Death_

"We meet again, Captain Harkness," I murmured, knowing that he'd hear me. He swivelled around, eyebrows cocked, and his mouth twitched in amusement.

"Oh. It's you," I raised an eyebrow at this, and huffed.

"Indeed," There was perhaps a minute of awkwardness between us before the barrier exploded into tiny fragments. I pulled out a novelty pair of sunglasses, placing them on the bridge of my nose, watching Jack disappear back to life. I heard the rattle of breath returning to a dead corpse, and a sigh of relief.

"That is going to leave a mark," I heard Jack say.

-x-x-x-

It is my assumption now that it was a hundred – give or take fifty – deaths later, and perhaps a decade or so, that the Captain found Torchwood. Lead me to Torchwood. I should not have done, as it was against the rules which had been bestowed upon me ever since the first life walked the Earth, but I felt that I should follow Jack, staying in the shadows. I think he always sensed I was there, though. Maybe it was obsession; a vermin I felt the need to wipe out. Whatever it was, I was drawn to the Captain. It was good that I was, for he led me across galaxies, beyond Earth. He helped to show me things I never would have known. He taught me compassion of the human race, a quality of red I could never quite reach.

I had delved into the Torchwood Institute's matters before – they never usually lived to see the bright side of thirty. The two women who had not yet fallen into my grasp – an Alice Guppy and an Emily Holroyd, I do believe – had been stalking Jack, much like I, for the better part of three months, and as Jack lay still and dead, with yet another bottle in his stomach, I could see them closing in on him like two birds of prey.

Though the Institute had only existed a short while, I already held twelve souls of theirs beneath my haggard cloak; and not all of those were humans.

The Torchwood Institute was established to protect humans against extraterrestrial threat; aliens, in other words. It was fascinating. Though I have taken the souls from many life forms that do not dwell on planet earth in my existence, it still amazes me that these humans can hunt down these aliens with such ease. It is wonderful to see such dedication.

Creatures – and alien objects - from other planets and galaxies are what Torchwood arms the human race against. These items are drawn through a tear in time and space through the city of Cardiff called 'the Rift'. Sometimes I wander the Rift, seeing where it will take me, but I always return to the present. I cannot kill someone twice.

The two women were quick to take Jack away with them as soon as he had come back to life, dragging him away and attaching him to what seemed to be electrical wires, judging by his static hair as he was brought to me twice.

"Bugger," Jack moaned, rubbing his arm, jarring it painfully. A flash of yellow. He was gone again.

I found, after lingering for a little too long to see if Jack would die again, that the Captain had decided to join the ladies in their alien antics – no double entendre intended – and was working his way slowly through the ranks.

One day, he would be leader.

But I dared not tell him that at the time; his ego may have swelled even more.

In the years leading to one milestone in his life – a year which truly changed him for the better – Jack fought in many wars, died many times, and loved so many. In all honesty, I felt a little like a proud parent watching their child ride a bike for the first time.

"That has got to hurt," I said grimly, as Jack appeared before me, shimmering slightly in the darkness, and he frowned, clutching the bullet wound that was pressed into his heart.

"Sure does," He grunted, wincing as the wound began to close. He immediately began to waver and flicker, as he always did when about to return to life. "Y'know," he began, head on one side, "I've met you so many times, but I never got your _real _name."

I swallowed. I had not used my name for so long, and the very sound of it send shivers rippling through me. It had been abused, battered, left forgotten in the deepest crevices of my mind. I had neglected it. "I am Death," I told him matter-of-factly, and he scowled at me, once more being kept away from my secrets.

I knew so much about him, yet I was beginning to feel that I did not know him at all.

I did not see Jack Harkness again until nineteen forty-one.

And what a year that was.

**I will go somewhere with this. Promise =)**

**There will be Janto in later chapters, of course, but not yet. **

**Thank you to all who are subscribing, reading and reviewing – I promise I won't let you down =D**

**~ Dragon **


	4. Nineteen FortyOne

**Note; I do not own Torchwood, nor do I own its characters. If I did, Ianto and Jack would be the only characters on screen xD **

**Introducing chapter three! ^^ (Or four, but the prologue doesn't count….hehe xD)**

**I am still listening to The Ballad of Ianto Jones, which ****milady dragon**** also told me is played when Ianto gives Jack coffee in 'Fragments'. It is a beautiful, haunting song, and yet is the only piece of music ever to make me cry. It is a true masterpiece. **

**Thank you to all who are reading and reviewing – it means so much =D **

**~ Dragon**

_**Nineteen Forty-One **_

Here I will skip to the future for a brief moment, to the year of 2009. It is the day of the 9th of July.

There is a song in my heart, and it is breaking me.

-x-x-x-

Perhaps the year of Nineteen Forty-One was the year I truly saw a different side to Jack Harkness, and maybe to myself. Though I thought I had hardened over the years, threads of my empathy still remained. The human race still touched me in a way I did not think possible.

The world was a rainbow.

I did not dwell on this year for long, but during the nights where bombs screamed through the air, and humans – soldiers and Captains alike – stood together, it was then that I took the time to marvel in the human race. I had thought them cruel, merciless creatures, much as they must see me, without hearts. They held murder and scorn, suicide and defeat.

Yet they held love, an emotion I can only dream of being able to feel.

In all, I only saw 1941 twice. I prefer not to go back there, as war always makes me hate, and I do not want to despise the human race, especially after all I've seen.

The second time I saw it, I was following Torchwood, and so was an old friend of mine, whose name still brings shivers to my spine and makes my heart turn cold. I do not know how I came across him, nor do I wish to remember, but he praised a side of me which I loathe. The demonic, carnivorous side of me, who stalks the Earth when released, bringing death and pain wherever he steps.

The story of Torchwood leading to Nineteen Forty-One is great, and becomes even greater afterwards.

I will not dwell on the first time I saw 1941 now; instead, I will leave it to future chapters, when Torchwood and the war crossed paths.

Now I turn to the Twenty-First Century, an era which changed me for the better.

It also changed Jack, in some ways better than others.

-x-x-x-

The song is cold and haunting, and breaks my heart.

His hand is warm, yet his body is cold.

His soul is dying.

-x-x-x-

Here comes the tale of Torchwood, and how I came across some of the most beautiful people I have ever encountered; not in looks, but in mind and soul.

A tale of the teams I have met, the people I have seen, the songs I have heard, and the colours which have danced before me.

What colour was Torchwood?

A rainbow.

_**RAINBOW**_

_An endless spectrum of eternal colours_

**Short, lazy chapter! xD**

**More soon.**

**I promise =) **


	5. Of Bullets and Gauntlets

**Note; I do not own Torchwood, nor do I own its characters. If I did, then I would be secretly hiding in the Hub, jumping out at Ianto at every point possible. **

**And here we have the beginnings of the true Torchwood tale! **

**I will be working through basically all of the episodes, but concentrating mostly on important people xD **

**I have two stories on the go now, but I would like to delete one, but seeing as I cannot, I'll let it die until I can pick it up again xD **

**I got the soundtracks for Torchwood today, yay~! **

**Thanks to all who have reviewed, read, subscribed and favourite-ed. It means so, so much to me that you seem to enjoy my work, and I feel honoured to have people reading my stories. **

**Thank you! =D **

**~ Dragon**

_**Of Bullets and Gauntlets**_

One thing which has always confused, and occasionally appalled me, is how some humans can tear their own lives apart by the flick of a switch, or the twist of a knife, or even the swallowing of pills.

What disgusts me even more are the humans who kill each other in cold blood, not caring about the families who would be distraught. It is not only humans, but they seem to have the most emotion of all the species I have ever encountered. Whilst some humans have moved me almost to tears, some have sickened me to my very core, and have even sometimes made me almost _glad_ that I can tear the life away from them, like they have done to so many.

And Death should never be glad to destroy someone's life.

One human who perhaps irritated me to the point where I was literally counting down the days till I reached her was Suzie Costello.

She had always been one to watch, never truly trusting those around her, and in the early months of the year of 2007, her time came to an end, and she did it with a silver bullet.

Suzie had been using my bayonet – or 'Life Knife', as it was christen by a dry-witted man, whose matters and characteristics I shall not delve into just yet – to murder innocent people - who I lead away in silence - so she could use my crafts against me.

Many years ago; centuries, in fact, I cast out a pair of gloves to the great seas, made from metal which had been derived from Death itself; or me. I did not think it possible for them to be brought to shore, but both found their way somehow. The first allowed me access to earth itself, and I despised it; it made me into a monster, hungry for souls, stalking human beings until I could be among them forever.

Luckily, that glove was lost – or so I thought -, and only the second remained, which happened to be the one Torchwood Three brought up from the Bay. The one Suzie used to bring back the dead.

The gloves had once been my friends; they used to help me keep the connection between the souls and I as we made our way to the barrier, allowing me to interact with them. Gradually, I was able to use this ability without the help of the gloves, and so I had no use for them. I threw them away.

What I did not know was that my constant use of the mittens had somehow passed on the abilities I had; and they had mutated to the point where energy was drained from one human in order to bring back another.

I had created a killing machine.

I had cast away my knife – which I had originally named the Brio Bayonet – to Earth, hoping that no human would ever find it. It had three blades, each representing something entirely different – Life, Death and Rebirth.

Suzie Costello abused my artefacts, which lead to them being locked away, though not for long.

Before I had a chance to take her away, Jack's soul once more crossed paths with me, sporting a bullet wound in the centre of his forehead.

"Jack," I said, deadpan, nodding towards him. His head jerked up, as if I caught him by surprise. It was dark around us.

He touched his head, wincing as he did so, and smiled wanly. "I died again, huh?" He asked cheerfully, but then frowned. "The resurrection gauntlet…"

"Suzie still has it," I murmured, drawing my dusty cloak tighter around my body. Jack breathed out, his fringe fanning out as he did so, and he scowled.

"That-" He did not get a chance to finish what I presumed to be an insult, for the barrier blew outwards, showering both Jack and myself with a glass-like substance. The last words of Jack were a mumble, but what I heard made me smile, only slightly.

_**Jack's Words**_

"_You'll get me one day…" _

Moments later, a screaming woman was next to me, her eyes wild, her fists clenched. She did not see me until I grabbed her, and she swivelled round, as if to hit me. I ducked out of her way, coolly grasping both her shoulders and marching her towards the barrier.

She was a negative green. All the bad qualities.

_**GREEN**_

_Life, Nature, Growth, Renewal, Health, Sickness, Jealousy, Envy, Inexperience, Death_

"Who are you?" Suzie asked hoarsely, though judging by her facial expression, she had already worked that one out for herself.

"Your saviour," I whispered, loosening my grip ever so slightly. So many people asked me that question, and I always replied with something different. I can be so many colours.

I must admit, I had been reluctant to touch Suzie Costello – murderers deserve no mercy, nor do they deserve sympathy, especially not from me – but I had to take her hand to lead her to her demise.

"I don't want to go. Don't you understand?" She whimpered, her eyes full of fear at the sight of the eternal blackness which lay beyond us. "I didn't mean to shoot."

"I know. I…" For once in my existence, I did not know what to say. Could I apologise to someone who had murdered three people?

The barrier answered for me. With a flicker of its iridescent yellow light, it consumed Suzie Costello, enveloping her in its dark embrace.

The bright young soul of Suzie Costello wavered and died, like a candle being blown out.

I watched her go, before peering back to the water tower.

The glove had been taken by Jack, as had my bayonet, and I observed the invisible lift as it went down, wondering whether the Torchwood Three team would ever use the two devices ever again.

I thought so.

And wondering gave me new opportunities to watch over Torchwood.

-x-x-x-

Perhaps my fascination with Torchwood was to do with my obsessions over Captain Jack, or perhaps it was the emotions which drew me there.

In any case, I was hooked.

And nothing could help me.

**Sorry for the late updates! :( **

**I will go somewhere with this, but I know it just seems like rambling…I promise, Janto in about three chapters or so. I need to get to the Cyberwoman episode! xD **


	6. Love Sex Ghosts

**Note; I do not own Torchwood, nor do I own its characters. I simply love writing for it =D**

**Ok, so I bunked 'Day One' and 'Ghost Machine' together. Why, you may ask? Because Jack doesn't die in either, and it would take the whole focus off the main concept of this story if I went too deeply into either, though I did have some interesting ideas for 'Ghost Machine'. Sorry! :c But this also means I can get to the Janto more quickly :) **

**Another huge thank-you to everybody who has been reading, reviewing, subscribing and favourite-ing; it means so much to be, and I feel truly privileged to have people reading my works.**

**~ Dragon **

_**Love/Sex/Ghosts**_

It surprised me greatly that I did not see Jack again for a while.

His absence from my duties gave me time to indulge in other people's affairs, though none were as fascinating as he. I felt as if I was lagging in my work; I had nothing interesting to keep me going.

I would even go as far to say I missed Jack.

Time without him gave me the opportunity to figure out exactly _why_ I found Torchwood so fascinating, but it took me far longer than a few days to solve that problem.

I caught a glimpse of him as I stooped to the ground with a dustpan and brush, his face twisted into a smile. Beyond him, I took note of the rest of the team, whom I had only seen briefly before, and their names immediately flashed in my mind.

Humans have such peculiar ideas about me, and one I found so funny I almost cried. But I do not cry. A group of humans had compiled the evidence that I had a sort of 'list'; names etched into my head in the order I would take them. I do not know which humans I will take, nor do I know how many, until they actually die.

I do know the name of every single human in the world, however; though I do not realise it until I lay eyes upon them.

In the brief moments where I collected the alien gas, now nothing more than ash, just like the various men I had drawn away a few days before, the names of Torchwood Three flashed in my mind, and I took note.

I saw Gwen Cooper, Toshiko Sato, and Owen Harper.

In the seconds my eyes grazed them, I knew that one day, just like the others, I'd have them in my grasp.

And that hurt me.

-x-x-x-

Ghosts are all around us, as once demonstrated by the Cybermen. Of course, because they were Cybermen, they were not really ghosts, but there are fragments of the past left behind everywhere you look.

It was dark, clouds obscuring the sliver of the moon left behind, and stars were few and far between. Ghosts whispered around me, invisible even to my eyes, and I felt chilled as they dragged their timeless fingers through my cloak.

There is a difference between souls and ghosts. Souls are the entity of a human being; emotions and morals. They make a person who they are; without a soul, a human has nothing. They are an empty shell. Ghosts, however, are the lingering remains of people or beings, left behind by time. They cannot be seen, unless of course you use the 'ghost machine'.

My cloak drawn tight around my shoulders, a wave of disgust washed over me as a name engraved itself into my memories.

Ed Morgan.

I shuddered as I took him away, remembering all too clearly the poor girl he had killed years before. As I said before, murderers deserve no mercy.

The astonished face of Gwen Cooper greeted me as I took Ed Morgan's hand, a knife clasped in her hands. Blood stained her palms, and her eyes grew wide in fear as the old man before her sank to the ground. Revival attempts were pitiful on him, and he crossed the barrier without exchanging a word.

Jack had seemed to tense as I brushed past him that day. Perhaps he felt my presence.

All I knew then was that I'd see Jack Harkness soon, and a couple of weeks later, I paid my penance for not taking Lisa Hallett when I first had the chance.

The world was oh-so blue when I first met Ianto Jones.

**Omg! xD**

**I'm really looking forward to writing the next chapter; hopefully, you'll all enjoy it, too =)**

**The chapters are fairly short, so I will possibly be able to update every other day. **


	7. The Trouble With Cybermen

**Note; I do not own Torchwood, nor do I own its characters. I simply get explicitly happy writing fics about it xD **

**Here it is! Cyberwoman from Death's point of view! xD Cue an ecstatic Dragon ('cause referring to yourself in the third person is awesome), and some Janto moments. **

**The title for this chapter was actually taken from the original title for the series one episode 'Cyberwoman'. The original title was 'The Trouble With Lisa'. **

**Again, I'd like to thank everyone who's been reading and reviewing, favourite-ing and subscribing; it means so much to me to know you're reading my fics.**

**Thank you! ^^ **

**~ Dragon **

_**The Trouble With Cybermen **_

The trouble with Cybermen is that you have to tear them apart to find their human souls. They are metal monstrosities, wiped clean of emotions and morals, designed to be a perfected human, whose eyes are unclouded by things like love and hate. The human soul is thrown deep inside, forgotten and abused, caught behind a piece of technology which prevents emotions from being shown.

I have seen so many of them; I cannot even begin to explain how many bodies I have had to tear apart. The worst massacre was of Canary Wharf.

There were twenty-seven survivors, in all. Twenty-seven. It made bile rise in my throat to recall that hundreds, no, _thousands_ of innocent humans had perished. Even though the Cybermen murdered, I could not bring myself to hate them; they were troubled humans, ripped clean of everything that made them who they had once been.

My heart was a burden to carry that day; I often wished that I too could be without emotion, so that my job would be made that much easier.

But I am not allowed such an easy ride, and I pressed my lips together to stop tears escaping as I watched a terrified young man, dressed in a smart suit, drag a half-converted Cyberwoman from the fray of the battle, screaming for help, whilst his companion wailed in pain. I should have stepped forward that day, put a stop to it; I should have taken Lisa Hallett when I should have done.

I could not. And the reason why?

Love. Not my love; _his_ love. The young man, whose name appeared behind my eyes as I rested my gaze upon him. Ianto Jones. Such love, compassion, adoration, _determination_ burned within his soul for this one person that I could not take her from him. He had too much hope. It was scalding me, his hope. He so desperately wanted her to live, because without her, he had nothing.

I let them go, swallowing as the two of them struggled from the stench of death, my eyebrows knitting together. Clenching my fists, I turned away, guilt eating away at my heart like the spirit hands clinging to my cloak.

-x-x-x-

I knew, without even seeing her again that day that I would take Lisa Hallett. The time rolled around far too quickly for my comfort, and with a sickening sense of unease, I quietly made my way through dank corridors, straining my ears to catch the music.

A soft monody reached my ears, filling my head with a mournful song, singing of cybernetics, of tea, of early rising and late weekends. Of simple tasks which would no longer be completed, enjoyments which could no longer be fulfilled, because Death had come.

It was the requiem of Dr Ryoichi Tanizaki. His soul came quietly, as if he had guessed his time were up, and for that, I was grateful. He had a kind face, reverted to the old, wise features he bore before 'Lisa' – I can no longer really call her by her name, as she is not a human – tried to convert him.

"Will she succeed?" The cybernetics expert whispered quietly, as Ianto fell to his knees beside the Japanese man's body, tears falling down his cheeks.

"I do not know," I replied truthfully, as Ianto began to drag Tanizaki's body away, trying not to collapse with his sobs. The cybernetics expert frowned at me as the world melted around us, the barrier shimmering slightly as we approached it.

"But surely you would. After all, you are…Death, aren't you?" He asked, watching as I passed a hand over the barrier. I caught his gaze, one side of my mouth twitching, as if to smile.

"I am. But even Death cannot predict the future." He disappeared into a swirling fog of purple.

_**PURPLE**_

_Royalty, Romance, Mystery, Spirituality, Nobility, Authority, Moodiness, Death_

I could tell without even thinking that Dr Tanizaki was not the last soul I would be sweeping beneath my cloak that day, and so I decided to follow Jack around the Hub, watching with vague interest as his team listened to every command he barked at them.

What fascinated me most was his utter determination to find Ianto Jones.

He gave me time to dwell upon this, until the entire team congregated in the main body of the Hub, watching and waiting, as 'Lisa' spoke of creating a new race of Cybermen. I strained my ears, frowning as she spoke harshly, monotonously; her emotions were slowly fading, leaving behind a shell.

A splash accompanied Ianto Jones as he was tossed aside like garbage into the shallow pool which resided beneath the water tower. I immediately moved closer to him, making sure that he was not dead. His name did not ring an alarm bells in my mind, so I knew it was safe to assume that he had merely been knocked unconscious.

I do not like to admit it, but I would have been hesitant in taking him. I could not put my finger on why I was so desperate to grant him his life for a few more years.

I was momentarily distracted from him by Jack appearing beside me, gasping, none-existent breath entering his lungs. Before we were plunged into darkness, and the iridescent outline of the barrier appeared before us, I noted his body sprawled across the floor.

"Ew. I'm all crispy," Jack scowled, fixing his hair, though it would be just as messy when he was dragged back to life. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he pursed his lips.

"No comment," I replied, my mouth flickering into a smile, before returning to the thin, expressionless line it usually was. Jack's forehead creased in worry, and he raised one hand to rest in his hair.

"Oh, God…oh, God. This is…this is too much. How could he…?" Tears welled for a moment in Jack's eyes, and I fought the sudden urge to reach out and take him in my arms. I cannot show emotion. I am not allowed to choose favourites. Though perhaps Jack was an exception for me; after all, he could not die. Maybe he could be my favourite after all.

Time ran out, as Jack returned to life, my hair stirring as a small breeze picked up around me, telling me that the barrier had gone.

People say that Death must have no heart, for it takes without mercy, and is indiscriminate. Good people, who have lead short - yet pure - lives die, whilst those who cause pain to others continue to live without a threat towards them.

What human beings must realise is that I _cannot_ make exceptions, no matter what, and sometimes, it literally agonises me to take souls. I beg silently, screaming to my masters to show compassion for such young lives, but they do not listen. They are old, wise beyond their years, with cold, unforgiving hearts, and unrelenting actions. Whatever they say, goes.

Though there have been only four souls I have been unwilling to take. Just four. And all met their demises far sooner than they should have.

My daydream was disturbed as a name was etched into my thoughts, sending me to Earth, armed with nothing but my morals and compassion, taking a deep breath as I came to collect the soul of one I should have taken so long ago.

In a mess of blood and carnage, Lisa laid dead, her limbs at awkward angles, her eyes cold and staring. I closed my eyes, taking a moment of grace, trying to ignore Ianto Jones sobbing beside her. I could have sworn I heard his heart break.

I searched for a soul, but I found nothing around me except the spirit of one Annie Bennett. Frowning, I cautiously took her hand, quickly taking her to the barrier so that I might see where exactly Lisa had gone.

My answer was found when a young girl stood up, her forehead wounded with a ghastly gash, her eyes wide with fear. I could see Lisa inside of her, though her soul was clouded with guilt. My heart began to race as Ianto moved quietly over to her, disbelief in the air around him.

It took less than two minutes for Lisa Hallett to die again. Bullets tore her apart, spattering the room with the girl's blood; once more her soul perished, and this time, I was ready. I silently walked to her side, my eyes grazing Ianto's sobbing figure. Without thinking, I stooped down, resting my hand on his shoulder for a brief moment. He would feel nothing, except perhaps a chill course through his body; I am only visible to those souls who have left their human shells.

"I'm so sorry…" A quiet, delicate voice reached my ears; I needed not turn round – I knew it was Lisa.

"The deeds have been done," I deadpanned, reaching a hand towards her, my mouth twitching into a smile. For some reason, we had not yet sought out the darkness. Lisa swallowed, taking one last glance at Ianto. Her expression softened.

"Y'know…" She began, gazing fondly at him. I looked up at her, as if assuring her I was listening. "He came down to see me every day. I remember every single word he said, every last one." Lisa's mouth moved into a wan smile. "He spoke so much of Jack. I could hear the pride in his voice, how much he loved working for him." She swallowed again, though it was unnecessary to do so. "He joined Torchwood Three to save me. But I think…after today…I think just maybe, Torchwood Three will save him."

There was a slight pause as the barrier faded into view. It had a slightly pinkish colour to it.

_**PINK**_

_Sweet, Pretty, Physical Weakness, Delicate, Love, Charm, Tenderness, Death_

"I don't know what Jack's done to earn Ianto's respect. But I do know that he must be one incredible man." Lisa's last words were echoed into my own mind as she was drawn into the barrier, and I smiled, only slightly.

Indeed, he was an incredible man. And I found myself thinking that more every day.

**Er, ok, maybe not so much Janto as I was intending, but there ya go xD**

**Next chapter is coming soon, so please stay tuned! ^^**


	8. With a Fairy, Hand in Hand

**Note; I do not own Torchwood, nor do I own its characters. I just love writing for it. :) **

**Well, here we are, at the 'Small Worlds' episode =D I have to say, I wasn't sure whether or not to merge this one, 'Countrycide' and 'Greeks Bearing Gifts', but then I was scared that Death would come eat me if I didn't write lots about it, so I decided to separate them xD **

**I think somewhere mid-way through this story, I'll post 'Death's Rainbow', which is just a recap for me on all Death's colours. **

**The title for this chapter was taken from the poem 'The Stolen Child', by William Butler Yeats. **

**I'd just like to thank every body, again, who has favourite-ed, subscribed, reviewed, and especially those who have put me on author alert. It really means so much to me =D**

**Thanks again! ^^ **

**~ Dragon **

_**With a Fairy, Hand in Hand**_

I once heard myths that Death was a fairy, though this was a long, long while ago, and when I caught note of the strange stories, I laughed emptily.

Fairies are not to be messed with, and I find it almost offensive that people would even consider that they are anything to do with me.

I made sure that I assured anybody who asked me that no, I was not a fairy; I am far from it. Death is no fairytale.

Real fairies are perhaps even more frightening than I, and I came across them only twice whilst in pursuit of Captain Jack. Needless to say, however, that I crossed paths with them far more times than that throughout my years.

When time began, the 'fairies' were created, bringing with them pain and suffering. I was…'born' as soon as the first creature was set upon Earth, and it did not take me long to come across one of these terrifying creatures. They send shivers even down my spine.

I will not go to great detail about my other encounters with the fairies; instead, I shall move straight on to the times where Jack Harkness was involved.

It was the year of 1909, Lahore. The night was drunken, as were the men who drove tankers through the streets, and it did not take much for a few of Jack's troops to kill a small child. You see, Jack was in charge of fifteen men; it was thought he was part of a diamond mining scam, as this was back when he was a conman.

Fairies have 'chosen ones'; children who they take as their own to live forever. The child was a chosen one.

The next day, Jack and his troops were on a troop train, happy and laughing. Jack was silent. On the way into the tunnel, the men were jovial; singing, playing music, chatting. They never suspected a thing.

On the way out, there was silence. I treaded slowly through the train, kneeling down to each man in turn, pulling out handfuls of rose petals from their mouths, scooping their souls into my arms as I did so. I have always said that life and death is like a rose; petals are fragile, so easily torn apart, like life itself. It seemed rather ironic that the fairies chose this method to kill their victims.

Jack did not die that day, though I saw the haunted look in his eyes as the realisation came to him that he was responsible for every last one of those men. His silence saved him that day.

The second time Jack and the fairies became entwined, I took three lives, and watched another turn into the world of eternity.

Two of the souls I stole away that day were of little significance to me, but one's death made a huge impact on Jack Harkness.

There was rain, and then there was not. Then there was silence, and then there were tears. Estelle Cole lay frail and alone, drowned by a torrential downpour. Jack immediately took her in his arms, shedding tears, clutching her so tightly as if he could never let her go.

Reaching down, I kissed him on the back of his head, fondly, as if comforting him, and tugged the soul of Estelle Cole free from her old flesh. Jack once told me, many summers ago, that his father had been the one who loved Estelle. But looking at their final goodbye, as Estelle departed forever; I could see that it was Jack himself who had loved her.

The two of us made our way to the barrier quietly, my arm around her shoulders, Estelle sighed, rather sadly, but somewhat of relief. Perhaps then I should have told her that it was Jack whom she had loved, but that would have broken her, and I did not want her to suffer anymore.

"Is there anything beyond this world? Any…magic? I spent my whole life following the fairies, and yet, now that I've seen them…" Estelle began with questions, but answered them for herself, after seeing the solemn look in my eyes.

"Magic is only there for those who wish to see it," I replied quietly, patting her shoulder as the barrier pulled her close for an eternal embrace.

I took one last look at Jack before I returned to my duties, just one. His eyes swam with tears, of memories destroyed, of everything that would never be.

He was broken.

I must admit this now; I have only ever seen Jack break four times. Just four. Each time was with a person I did not want to take. Each time made my job a little harder.

The last time was too much.

**Oh! xD**

**I won't go into too much detail about the mysterious four people, but it's kind of easy to guess one of them. If one is Estelle, then who are the others…? **

**More coming soon! ^^ **


	9. What's That Coming Over the Hill?

**Note; I do not own Torchwood, nor do I own its characters. If I did, then I would be sticky-taped to the Torchwood producers' conference table so I could hear what they were discussing. xD **

**I'm so sorry for the late update! My laptop died, giving me the Blue Screen of Death, so I had to spend ages trying to reboot it. Luckily, I did not lose any of my documents, yay =D **

**I was stuck for a title for this chapter! D: **

**But I found one, and it is taken from the song 'Monster' by The Automatic. **

**Thanks again to all who have been reading, reviewing, subscribing and favourite-ing, it means so much =D**

**Thanks again,**

**~ Dragon**

_**What's That Coming Over The Hill?**_

I realise that I said previously that I find murderers to be disgusting, unforgivable humans; I still stand by this.

But nothing, and I mean nothing, can ever horrify me more than humans consuming each other's flesh. Even if it is to save one's own life, even if there is nothing else, the very idea still sends me reeling.

Of course, I have come across many cannibals in my time, and, though some have been ruthless, heartless, despicable excuses for humans, a handful have been honest, crying, sobbing victims of plane crashes on mountains or in deep forests. They are the ones I open my heart to in the slightest, but I still give them the cold shoulder.

The worst case I have ever had the sorrow to come across is the 'Harvest'.

The Harvest began decades before Torchwood became involved, yet it became all the more gory and despicable, and yet more interesting for me, as soon as Jack poked his business into it.

I had collected seventeen before Torchwood realised something was not quite right; rather foolish on their behalf, I do think. They should have realised something was going on earlier.

My head was full of colours, blues and yellows, and monodies and ballads played in my thoughts, turning and burning, the notes sour in my mind.

Because the bodies had been cut up, stored away, I had to walk amongst the Beacons for hours, seeking out escaped souls, soothing them and leading them away, my fists clenched in anger at the monsters who had struck fear into their very cores. Even the barrier was unsure of what to think, changing colours often, confused.

I felt my heart drop to my feet when the first call came. As I may have mentioned before, I do not have a 'list' of people, as such; I take people only as soon as they have died. But occasionally, scenarios play out to me, where people _may_ or may _not _die, and that is when I must be present.

There came such a moment on a cold, dark night, high up in the Brecon Beacons. My cloak was heavy around my feet, too much so for it to be picked up by the light breeze which caressed my arms as it passed me. I shivered lightly, though I feel no heat in my brittle bones, the action picked up from many years of watching human beings.

A name danced across my head, quivering at the edges, as names do when their death is uncertain.

_Ianto Jones._

My brow furrowed ever so slightly, and I found myself pausing on top of a hillock, a small, stone building in my sights, which I assumed to be a city hall, of sorts. Why did I feel such resistance for taking this man? I could not put my finger on it. Perhaps it was his underlying links with Jack. Perhaps it was just because I had seen far too many fall at the hands of Torchwood.

I stepped into the building, my nose wrinkling at the stink of flesh and blood. I edged around groups of malevolent-looking villagers, their eyes swimming with hunger, their teeth bared in baleful grins. I winced as a knife was raised to the throat of Ianto Jones, the blade so very close to slitting his flesh.

Humans are so very fragile, like a glass animal. Once one is broken, you cannot easily fix it; and when a piece is missing, you have to work to find it before time runs out. Before the blood spills too far. Before the bullet runs too deep.

So many things can kill a human being.

I was just about to touch his forehead with my hand, drawing his soul clean, when a tractor crashed through the walls, sending everyone to their feet, the knife spiralling away from Ianto, and even knocking me off-balance in the slightest. I dreaded to think who I'd find driving the tractor, though, in my mind, I felt that I already knew.

My fears were confirmed when Jack leapt from the tractor, machine gun in hand, shouting as he cut down the villagers one by one. I watched the fray for a while, disgusted to find myself enjoying the shoot-out, for no names had become apparent in my head. Grinning, I turned to walk away, sweeping my cloak behind me. My eye briefly grazed over the Torchwood Three team, their mouths hanging open in surprise, disbelief, and awe.

I saw blood, a nuclear plant, a tank full of smoke. I heard a distant gunshot, a body collapse to the floor. I tasted salty tears on my tongue, felt my mind ache in an emotion I had not felt for hundreds of years. I heard the last words of four people, as their emotions became one with me, their lives crossed paths with my own. They were etched into my future, an assured assignment, some too close for comfort.

I had to shake off the feeling of dread and sudden despair I felt, names already flashing in my mind, and, with one last glance at Jack, I stepped out into the dusky air, the sky painted sunrise shades of pink, orange, yellow and blue.

Even the sky has colours, and some day, it, too, will perish.

-x-x-x-

_**A BRIEF GLANCE AT THE FUTURE**_

There are so many songs I hear, day in, day out. As life goes on, actions become notes, some sharp, some flat, some pure and good. As sleep overcomes humans, their rest becomes one with the music.

Some compositions are long overdue; others are incomplete.

With my heart on a string, I listen to mournful music, swirling about my feet like mist on autumn's eve.

I watch Jack turn, and walk away, and I see him go, somehow knowing it is not forever, and clench my fists.

-x-x-x-

I realise now that I have not been telling my tale in chronological order. This is because I feel that whoever may read this will need to know the tragedies before their occurrence; however, I shall now try to keep my burden of secrets to myself, and allow the tale to unfold in itself.

I shall warn you now, however; beware of Greeks bearing gifts.

Do not trust your enemies.

**Okay, I know this story doesn't seem to have a point at present, but I am unfolding it slowly…like…an onion. xD **

**I really would like to make Death more compassionate, yet I feel this may turn her into a Mary-Sue, so I am being careful with my words for now.**

**I will put the next chapter up as soon as I can =D **


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